


Linger

by floorcoaster



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bakery and Coffee Shop, F/M, Fluff, London Fog, Something New
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29860821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floorcoaster/pseuds/floorcoaster
Summary: When Pansy insists that Hermione go to a coffee shop, she had no idea what she'd find there.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 19
Kudos: 165
Collections: Dramione Valentine Exchange





	Linger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lostinthenightrain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lostinthenightrain/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DramioneValentineExchange](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DramioneValentineExchange) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Prompt: London Fog (for lostinthenighttrain)
> 
> I hope you like this! Thanks to dreamsofdramione for the beta job! Also, I totally went and had a London Fog last week because I was like, I bet I'd like that! LOL!

The café was everything.

As soon as she walked in, she felt an overwhelming sense of rightness, of belonging, as though the entire space had been designed with her in mind. Which was ridiculous, of course. There was simply no possible way that a café in a small Muggle village in Scotland would have anything to do with her. Still, it was exactly the kind of place she could envision herself spending a lot of time in, and since she could easily Apparate anywhere she wished on the island, she probably would.

There was a roaring fire on one side with a selection of comfortable chairs arrayed before it. Both the side walls were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, there was a large bay window in the front with a cozy-looking sofa nestled into it, and a few other seating areas were set up around the surprisingly large space. On the front wall, on the other side of the door from the bay window, a tall wooden counter allowed patrons to stand and drink, browse a newspaper, and charge their devices. It was clear, however, that the purpose of the café was to stay a while—which was probably why the proprietor had named it Linger.

The smell of coffee permeated the air in a delicious way, but she wasn't there for the coffee. No, Pansy had dragged her there simply because of the café and its ambiance, and now that she was there, she understood why. She smiled at Pansy, a little surprised to find that one of her newest friends knew her so well. Although many of her friends would have recognized that the little shop was just her style, but no one else would have hounded her until she went, going so far as to accompany her in person.

"The entire menu is special drinks from all over the world!" Pansy was practically bouncing on her four-inch heels. "Everything is exactly how you'd like it, I'm sure, and you're allowed to read any of the books on the shelves and stay as long as you like." Her expression was so excited, so earnest, that Hermione had to laugh.

"It's wonderful. Thank you for bringing me."

"Oh, excellent!" Pansy checked her watch. "Let's get something to drink, but then I have to go. I figured you'd want to get lost and... I don't know, read a book."

Hermione chuckled. "How well you know me, Pansy."

They got in the queue and tried to see the menu, written in chalk, over the heads of the people in front of them, but it was no use.

"What did you have last time?"

Pansy shrugged and waved her hand. "I just asked for their most popular drink. I don't even remember what it was called."

"Do you know who runs the café?" She tried to see through the tiny window leading into the back room but it was no use.

"Of course not. Why would I?" Pansy laughed. "Merlin, you're probably half in love with them already, aren't you? I have no idea who it might be. But if it happens to be a he, and he happens to be attractive, then do me a favor and throw yourself at him. Will you? For me?"

"Sure, Pansy. I'll just hop on the counter and demand to speak to the owner, then basically ask him— _if_ it's a him—to dinner."

"Ooh, can I watch?"

They reached the counter, and Pansy boldly shouldered her way in front of her. "Excuse me..." She squinted at the name tag printed on what looked like a copper oval with a stamped coffee cup on it. "Beverly. I'd like to speak with the owner of this establishment."

Beverly looked startled. "Is something the matter?"

"No. We just want to speak to them." Pansy examined her nails with exaggerated disdain.

"Oh, I'm so sorry but the owner isn't here right now." Beverly's eyes were wide. "He usually takes a break in the middle of the day for lunch."

Pansy gave Hermione a triumphant smirk, then slowly turned back to the poor cashier and spoke in her sweetest voice. "I see. Well, in that case, I'll have the daily special."

Beverly looked startled again, clearly thrown off by Pansy's abrupt turnaround. "Right, well, um. Today we're featuring the Vancouver Fog. It's, um, it happens to be the owner's favorite." Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment.

"What's that? Sounds exotic."

"It's Earl Grey tea, with vanilla extract and milk—frothy milk." Beverly finally plastered on a smile.

"Yes, I'd like that, please and thank you." Pansy started to turn away. "Oh, in a to go cup, please."

Beverly nodded, and Pansy leaned back to whisper, "I forgot Muggle money."

Hermione tsked insincerely and stepped up to order, pulling her wallet out of her bag. "The special sounds lovely, I'll have one as well."

"Will that be all?"

Pansy leaned over to look at the offerings behind the display case. "Half a dozen macarons, please. Assorted. But make sure there's at least one pistachio."

Beverly rang up the order, and Hermione paid. "You can sit down. I'll bring it to you."

Pansy had already wandered off, so Hermione went to secure an area for two. Their seats faced the street, since Hermione loved people watching almost as much as reading. There was a stack of books on a table beside the chair she chose, and she ran her finger down the spines, looking at the titles.

Pansy plopped down just when one of them caught her eye. She pulled the book out from the middle of the stack.

"What's that about?"

Hermione shrugged. "No idea. I'll read the back though." Beverly arrived with their drinks then, and Hermione thanked her. "Pardon my curiosity, but the owner of this café..."

"Mr. M." Beverly lit up and bounced slightly on the balls of her feet.

Pansy gave Hermione a sideways smirk.

"Right. Mr... M. You said this is his favorite drink?" She pointed to the Vancouver Fog. The smell of it wafting through the air was delicious.

Beverly hugged the small, round tray to her chest. "Yes. He traveled there... oh, it's been a long while, long before this café existed, of course. And he discovered it in Vancouver. He says lots of other people make it here, of course, but he really likes it. It's the special at least two days a week."

"Thank you." Hermione sat back in her seat with the cup and turned to Pansy. Beverly walked away without another word.

"Somebody's got a fancy for her boss." Pansy gave Hermione a significant look, then waggled her eyebrows.

"Yes, that much was quite obvious." Hermione lifted the cup to her lips and inhaled; the scent was even stronger up close. "Have you had this before?"

Pansy shook her head. "No, but it's bloody amazing. I hope it's on the menu all the time."

Hermione took one tentative sip and let the flavors mix in her mouth. It really was incredible. "Wow. That's... quite different."

"It is. But different isn't always bad, remember?" Pansy parroted the Ministry's latest attempts at encouraging people to embrace diversity. It was amusing at best. "Well, I'm glad you let me drag you away from whatever it was you were doing so I could show you this place. But I've got to go now."

"Oh, yes, this is so perfect, Pansy. I'm going to be coming here a lot, I can tell."

She stood to hug her friend goodbye, then sat down again and got comfortable. The book she'd chosen was interesting, and before she knew it, she was completely absorbed.

Time passed around her as she let herself get lost in the story. At some point, Beverly returned and she ordered another Vancouver Fog. She was about halfway through her leisurely enjoyment of it when someone new approached her—though she didn't notice until he spoke.

"Hello there, I'm Mr. M. I was told you wanted to speak with me?"

Being drawn out of a good book abruptly was a bit disorienting, and for a second or two, Hermione didn't know what was going on. Then she looked up at the man who'd spoken, unable to really see him due to the light shining directly behind his head. She put her hand over her eyes, but that didn't help, and then he moved slightly away from the light.

When she did get a good look at him, it took another few seconds for her mind to register exactly what she was seeing. Clearly his mind had already processed it; his eyes were wide with shock as they stared at each other.

"Mal—"

"My cashier told me you wished to speak to me? I know it was some time ago..." He glanced up toward the register area and then sank into the chair Pansy had vacated earlier. "How can I help you?" His eyes flicked back to Hermione, and there was a pleading in them.

Hermione used a napkin to mark her place, then shut the book. "Actually, Mr... _M_... that was my friend who asked to speak to you. _Pansy_. She never really said what she wanted."

At the mention of Pansy, Draco sat back in the armchair, dragging his hand down face. "I see."

"Mr. M, since I have you here, I'd just like to compliment you on the Vancouver Fog. Beverly told me it's your favorite?"

He looked extremely torn, and she had a feeling he was desperately trying to decide whether or not to run. If he wasn't in a crowded establishment—which, apparently, was his—he probably would have already left. But he certainly didn't want to cause a scene.

"Right. Yes. I... I know it's not really the proper English way, but I'd like to think my travels around the world have broadened my horizons." His eyes kept shifting around the room as though expecting something.

"Hey. Mr. M, relax." She smiled at him, trying to convey some of the sense of peace she'd felt ever since entering the café. "It's just me. I'm as surprised to see you as you are to see me. Pansy found this place earlier this week and wouldn't leave me alone until I agreed to come with her. She seemed to think it would be just the kind of place I'd love."

He regarded her carefully for a moment, then stood. "Excuse me."

Without another word, he walked away, toward the back of the café. Hermione kept her gaze forward, surprised at his bluntness but also, at the same time, not.

She hadn't seen Draco Malfoy in years, not since his trial. She'd heard little nuggets of news about him since then: he was a generous, hard-working, brilliant man who stayed out of the spotlight as best he could. He gave to worthy causes and occasionally wrote thought-provoking articles in the Prophet giving his opinion on wizarding laws or practices that she never failed to find fascinating. Some of his work included championing good relations between the old families and those entering the wizarding world. He'd never married, and despite endless speculation and research, details about his private life were few and far between.

Even with all of that, she never would have guessed he'd end up in a Muggle village serving the most interesting and fascinating beverage in a café full of books. She should have known the whole thing was too good to be true.

With a sigh, she set the book on the side table and prepared to leave, but just as she was taking her last sip of the tea, Malfoy returned bearing two fresh cups.

"Another? On me." He handed her a cup and smiled, something warm in the expression. "I hope you don't mind, I've found that I like this drink with a little bit of lavender. I put a few drops in yours for you to try."

Her first reaction was alarm, and she glanced down at the cup with suspicion.

He laughed and sipped from his, then held it out to her and took the cup he'd given her for himself. "It's not poisoned, I promise."

"No, of course not." She felt silly as heat crept into her cheeks. "I'm simply... This is quite a lot to take in."

"Yet you thought, for a fleeting second, that I might have put something in your drink." He sipped again from what had been her cup. "Admit it, Granger."

She sat forward in her seat, fixed him with an intense gaze, and took a drink. The frothy milk stuck to her lip, and without thinking, she licked it off. When he blinked, eyes widening slightly, she realized what she'd done, and her blush deepened. Merlin, she hadn't meant to do anything suggestive; what would he think?

Draco laughed, his eyes shining in such a pleasant way that she felt her own lips curve upwards in a smile.

"Forgive me, Mr. M. I'm sorry for my first impulse. Just as you've been surveying the room since you recognized me, I have also been wondering exactly what's going on and why you're here." She took another sip and settled back in her chair. "I think it's natural, considering our history, that we'd both be a little cautious."

"That's fair." He crossed one leg on the other and looked at her with amusement. "Hermione Granger. Of all the coffee shops in all the world, she had to walk into mine."

Her eyes widened. "Your travels have been so extensive as to include an introduction to classic Muggle American cinema?"

"Excuse me."

Both Hermione and Draco looked up to see Beverly standing there, a severe look on her face. "Mr. M, we seem to be running low on small cups."

He blinked at her, waiting for more. "Alright. What needs to be done about it?"

"Will you come show me if I've missed some?" She bit her lip, motioning slightly toward the back room.

Hermione had to look away quickly in order to hide her amusement. With wide eyes and a smirk on her face, she watched Malfoy to see what he would do.

"Er, sure." He stood, leaving his tea on the table.

He'd taken three steps away when Beverly called him back. "Oh, Mr. M, you forgot your tea. I'll just get it for you."

"No, Beverly, I didn't forget it." He gave her a pointed look.

Beverly pursed her lips, sent a sideways glare at Hermione, and hurried away.

Hermione chuckled to herself in amusement. Beverly most certainly fancied her boss, and now that she knew it was Draco Malfoy, she felt a little sorry for the young woman. She didn't think he'd ever consider a Muggle, no matter how widely traveled he was or how much he had changed. And he certainly had changed. Hermione blushed again at the memory of his genuine, heartfelt smile, and she found herself wanting to see it again. That would be her goal: coax another one of those smiles from him.

Draco returned shortly after, sighing as he sat back down.

"Please don't feel like you need to stay." Hermione motioned around the café. "I'm sure you've got a hundred other things you could be doing."

He shrugged. "This is my place. I do whatever I want."

"Beverly—who fancies you, by the way—said that you first had this drink in Vancouver? Is that why it's called Vancouver Fog?"

His eyes flicked briefly to where his employee stood. "I know she does. I've done nothing to encourage her. But what more can I do? She hasn't done anything blatant, like come on to me." Clearing his throat, he gave her a smirk, one that reminded her of the boy he'd once been. "And yes, I first had it in Vancouver, but it's called a London Fog there. The drink was crafted there, so the first person to bring it to our shores named it accordingly."

"Are you... I'm awfully confused. How can you own and operate a Muggle café? I thought I'd seen something about you in the Prophet just last week." Then she blushed furiously. "I'm so sorry. It's none of my business, of course. I only—"

"You're Hermione Granger, and if you didn't have a hundred questions right now, I'd know something was terribly wrong." He grinned. "I highly doubt you'd find the story interesting."

She leaned forward slightly. "I think you'd find you were wrong, should you try."

They looked at each other for a long moment. A crash in the back drew his attention, and he sighed. "I ought to get back there. But listen, if you're still here when we close, which happens in... two hours... I'll take you to dinner down the street. They've got the best pesto gnocchi you've ever had outside of Italy."

Something like delight swept through her, lighting her senses on fire and sending her heart careening in her chest. "Dinner? I..."

"Or not. It's up to you." He took a few steps away. "You know where to find me should you ever change your mind and want to ask." He winked, then disappeared into the back room.

Hermione had dozens of questions—why was he here? Had he left the wizarding world? That didn't make sense, but what else could explain his presence here? Did he use magic at all? How was it that he had designed the most perfect space she could ever imagine? Although, now that she knew he was the owner, she could see signs that he'd magically expanded the interior. Which raised at least another half a dozen questions. She caught a glimpse of him through the door that led to the back room.

He was smiling and joking with one of his employees. Beverly, Hermione noticed, occasionally sent glares in her direction.

The question was, how much did Hermione want answers? She was insanely curious; that was part of her nature. But did she need to stick around and have dinner with Malfoy to get them? She could come back another day and hope to talk to him, though, she didn't think she'd get very far with that method, since he did seem to be quite busy.

But dinner with Draco Malfoy?

It _wasn't_ a date. Or anything, really. _It couldn't be._

It could, however, be the start of something. She definitely found him attractive, and if the space he'd created was any indication, that attraction would go beyond just his looks. Still undecided, she stayed in her spot, not reading, not drinking the delicious tea he'd given her, nothing. She was about to talk herself out of staying when Beverly came back.

"Miss?"

Hermione looked up and saw the barista giving her a look that was half-glare, half-smile. "Yes?"

Beverly held out her tray, and on it was a single macaron—pistachio—with a napkin. "From Mr. M."

"Oh! Thank you. Please tell him thank you!"

But Beverly had walked away as soon as Hermione picked up the treat and napkin.

She smiled, wondering how he knew that pistachio was her favorite, and was about to take a bite when she saw something odd about the napkin. It had clearly been charmed, sufficient to hide from Muggles but badly enough that she would be sure to spot it. After checking that nobody was watching, Hermione dabbed her lips and cast a simple _Revelio_ on the napkin. One word was written on it when she looked again.

_Stay._

A flurry of butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and she couldn't stop a smile. He wanted her to have dinner with him.

Hermione finished the macaron and drew her legs up under her. She opened the book, replaced the napkin she'd used as a bookmark before with the one from Draco, and resumed reading. She might as well get comfortable.

She might as well linger.


End file.
